


The Oldest Coffeeshop in the World

by Cuda (Scylla)



Category: Supernatural, Superwho - Fandom, Superwood - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: Jack's Missing Years, M/M, Mortal Jack Harkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:16:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Cuda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Harkstiel Holiday Advent. On a routine mission to secure an artifact left in 18th Century Venice by unscrupulous hands, Time Agent Jack Harkness gets played by forces beyond his ken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oldest Coffeeshop in the World

_Christmas Eve, 1720_  
 _Piazza San Marco, Venice_

Jax stretched against the cushions in an opulent new Venetian cafe, dodging glances from curious patrons. The place was an ocean of white powdered wigs and layers of brocade. The whole effect was one of an expensive antique dollhouse, filled with pale-cheeked fragile dolls. Jax knew a wig would have helped him blend in, but couldn't bring himself to wear one. Besides, he wouldn't be here too much longer. Just long enough to track the alien signature the Agency picked up, find the artifact, assess the damage, and report back. An in and out mission.

Low stress missions weren't normally the kind doled out to Jax. Probably had more to do with availability than anything, or maybe the agents with more seniority just didn't like the clothing. Jax was more fashion Clydesdale than fashion horse, but even he found eighteenth-century style stuffy and pretentious. Still, the mission proximity to this spot made it an irresistible prospect. A cup of joe at the Caffè Florian during its opening year wasn't a thing to be missed.

Jax drank a toast to Anna Maria Pertl, who struggled into life in Salzburg while he sat in the festive candlelight. One day, she'd give the Earth one of its finest composers. Human lives were the history of the species, each one a fragile link to the future. Mozart's _Eine Kleine Nachtmusik_ "Allegro" was perfect for stargazing, as if the composer somehow transcended his age, to brush against the cosmos. Jax was used to touching history by now, but early on in the Agency, it felt like handling butterflies.

Jax's wrist vibrated, tugging him back from his thoughts. He glanced down, pulling back the stiff folds of sapphire and gold brocade sleeve to check the scanner he'd brought along. The golden dot of alien tech he tracked was blotted out by an unanticipated energy surge. It lay over the cafe like a sunbeam, warming the whole room. Jax tucked the scanner away and abandoned his table. Excitement laced his blood; pulse quickened by the curl of potential danger. He stalked the cafe, looking for any sign of something out of the ordinary. Whatever it was, something casting that much power should be obvious.

A man-shaped ball of sunlight blocked the entryway. Jax squinted at it, but as he did, the light whitened to a punishing degree. The rest of the shop seemed to take no notice, but Jax turned his face away, a long-coated silhouette burnt blue on his eyes. When the light was gone, a man stood in the spot, in a suit and overcoat belonging two hundred years in the future. They looked at one another, Jax's gaze unsteady as he tried to see around the dark spots. Suddenly the stranger was in Jax's space, fingers curled around his lapel. "You're out of your time," he growled, "and you can see me. Who are you?"

Jax glanced at the patrons around them, who'd long since taken notice of him - apparently standing alone, staring into nothing. He shook his head and walked out, in need of cooler air to clear his spinning thoughts. When he'd escaped the crowd, into a fresh layer of Venetian snow, Jax spun to engage the stranger. "I don't know what you're talking about, but considering the whole cafe thought I was talking to myself just now, who are YOU?"

The stranger drew himself up. "My name is Castiel," he said, adding after a pause: "I'm like you - looking for something. You're part of the Time Agency."

Jax grinned. "Got me. How could you tell?" He ruffled his own hair. "It was the wig, wasn't it? Knew I should've gotten a wig." Castiel closed the space between them, dipping questing fingers into the pocket of Jax's bloomers. Jax yanked away before Castiel could find the scanner, eyebrows up with patent shock. "Whoa, hey, I'm sure my reputation precedes me but still - I haven't lost ALL of my standards." 

Castiel glared at him. "I have no idea who you are, much less your reputation. However," he nodded towards Jax's bloomers, "that's a Time Agency issue energy scanner. Combined with your vortex manipulator," his gaze went to Jax's wrist, as if he could see right through the layers of ritzy fabric, "It wasn't too hard. Now, WHO are you, and what are you looking for?"

Never mind the shock, Jax found himself grinning all over again. Call it a defense mechanism. He glanced at the Piazza around them, fading away beneath the greasy yellow lamplight. glad to see he hadn't attracted attention with the show. This spot in Venice got a fair bit of traffic, but hey, it WAS Christmas Eve, after all. "Well, you've got all the answers. I'm Jax. What I'm looking for - that's confidential. But I could never say no to a pair of pretty eyes." He sidled up to Castiel, who bit his lip in thought, then squinted suspiciously.

"I don't see what appearance has to do with divulging information," Castiel replied, "but you will tell me."

"How about a secret for a secret?" Jax cajoled, lowering his voice to fit the breath of space between them, "You go first. Why were you surprised I could see you?"

Castiel raised his chin, considering Jax shrewdly. "No."

"'No'? Why not?"

With a deep sigh and a roll of his eyes, Castiel stepped marched past him, planing away into the night. "Hey, why not?" Jax called again.

"You aren't worth the trouble, Jax." Castiel called back, and kept right on walking, "Not right now."

He didn't leave footprints, Jax noted.

* * *

Just Jax's luck, he and Castiel were chasing the same thing. Then again, Jax guessed he'd either be the target or the competition, with an energy signature like that. Two anomalies in the same place couldn't be a coincidence.

He'd missed his chance with the artifact he was tracking earlier. The energy signature's movement throughout the day led him to believe it was probably a piece of jewelry, confirmed by its stillness when he found it again. Jax kept a low profile, moving in the shadows as the snow gave way to a mizzling rain. The energy signature pulsed strong, leading him to a house at the foot of Ponte Widmann. He stood on the foot of the bridge, gazing at the darkened windows, when he caught sight of a pale figure making its way along the walking path below. Castiel. Nobody wore pants below the knee here, or coats of that cut. Jack galloped across the bridge and slipped into the shade of a pillar as Castiel approached the house. He, too, had an unusual interest in the spot, but lacked the subtlety to hide himself. Then again, Jax remembered, nobody else seemed able to see the man. Maybe he never worried about subtlety.

This time, however, he was definitely leaving footprints.

With a twist of his hand, Castiel popped the lock on the door and raised the bar from the inside. It swung in, and he moved through. Jax followed a few moments later, only to realize that in his haste, he'd miscalculated. Castiel caught him, and stood staring at him disapprovingly from the library door. Jax held a finger to his lips, pointing up towards the sleeping occupants of the house, and Castiel nodded. Slowly.

Moving together, they prowled the lower floors of the house. Jax brought his scanner out in the open, following the display to the steady golden glow of the artifact.

He noticed that Castiel wasn't putting out an obscurity this time. Not like last time. He looked back over his shoulder at the man, who watched him with interest. The flywheels started spinning in Jax's brain, all of them throwing wary sparks.

The scanner led them to the lady of the household's boudoir. Jax reached for the doorknob, but Castiel pulled him back. His hands were incredibly strong and icy on Jax's arm, and for a second he thought, this is it, here we go.

A moment later, one of the lady's maids exited the room, scrubbing her eyes sleepily.

When Castiel let go, Jax darted into the room. He moved into a side chamber reserved for the lady's toilette, where an immense jewelry box stood on spindly legs, gleaming faintly in the low light. Jax clicked on a penlight, sliding the short wooden drawers out one at a time to search the contents. Castiel reached over the torch to obscure it, a flat second before the maid let herself back into the room. Jax didn't breathe until he heard another quiet door close, further off.

In the top drawer, they found their quarry. A ring of jasper, inscribed with a word Jax couldn't parse. His scanner identified it as the source of power, just as they heard the jingle of a collar in the hallway, and the tick of tiny nails. As one, Jax and Castiel turned to see a little dog with bearded jowls in the doorway. Her beady eyes gleamed in the penlight, obscured by a woolly brow to give her a permanent look of disapproval.

Schnauzer, Jax thought. Fantastic. A little growl rose in her throat as they approached her. Stuffing the ring into his pocket, Jax lunged towards the dog. She let loose with a string of barks like an automatic weapon, but skittered out of their way.

Jax bolted for the stairs like a wild man, Castiel on his six, as the schnauzer's barking roused the whole house. She pursued them, stopping only when they passed beyond the threshold of the front door.

"Good dog!" Jax praised, earning himself a farewell growl.

They retreated in a hurry, crossing the bridge and ducking down a dark side street. The night air temperature rose steadily, lifting a thick fog to cover the city. If they didn't meet a pickpocket in the next thirty minutes, Jax thought, they were home free. He turned to his unexpected cohort, amid the cries that summoned the city watch, and stuck out his hand. "Well, Castiel," Jax panted, "it's been a riot. But I—"

Castiel touched his forehead with two fingers, and the next thing Jax knew, it was morning, and he was alone in a hotel room across the city. His pockets were empty, of course.

A fresh shirt waited on the pillow beside him. A note was tucked into the neck, pinioned by a curling white quill. Jax couldn't place the species.

> Jax,
> 
> Thank you for doing what I could not. The object you sought was a cabochon from the holy breastplate of Aaron. Its wearer - in certain situations - can bend the will of others. It is safe now, thanks to you, before it could do greater damage.
> 
> I was not entirely honest with you, and I apologize for that. It isn't my wont to lie.
> 
> If you would like answers, you may have them at your leisure. I will be at Caffè Florian tomorrow morning. I am in your debt.
> 
> Castiel

* * *

Jax showed up at Caffè Florian later that morning, trying not to openly fume; certain he was failing. Castiel met him, gracious as a lord in spite of his still conspicuous dress. Nobody seemed to notice, although they clearly saw him today. Jax tossed himself down into a chair opposite Castiel and glared at him.

"You played me," Jax accused, "this whole time, you were just leading me on."

"You should eat," Castiel said mildly, nudging the plate of croissants his direction, "low blood sugar is apt to make you irrational."

"You KNEW who I was," Jax growled.

Castiel met his gaze coolly. "No. I did not. Not initially. I only knew there was technology here from the future, and I assumed someone else was tracking the cabochon."

"Oh, so it's that easy, huh?" Jax mocked. A server interrupted them, but the fight continued in glares, while Jax gave his order.

"It's either the Time Agency, or the Time Lords," Castiel snapped after their server departed, "and you're not arrogant or meddlesome enough to be one of them."

Jax blinked. "Time Lords? You mean from Gallifrey? They're all dead."

"That's a misnomer," Castiel said darkly, "unfortunately. But I knew you were looking for it, and I needed human hands to steal it. There are rules - it was gotten through a binding transaction, thus I couldn't simply take it. You were, truly, a Godsend." At Jax's snort, Castiel frowned. "What?"

"I didn't see you following any rules," Jax retorted, "You ran a con on me - and I fell for it like an amateur. Now I've got to report back to my superiors and explain that someone knocked me out and lifted the artifact."

"You thought you had the situation under control," Castiel soothed.

Jax shook his head. "No, it was a green move. Arrogant. I needed to beat you to it. If I wasn't busy being a competitive idiot, I could have just waited for you to come out, and taken it from you then."

"No," Castiel replied mildly, with a faint smile, "you couldn't have." After a long, lingering glance, Castiel added, "Your attempt at feigning humility is noted. I'm not going to give it back, Jax, no matter how much trouble you're about to be in as a result."

With a laugh, Jax slouched back in his chair. He reached for the coffee at his elbow and snagged a croissant with the other hand. "I had to try, didn't I?"

Castiel sighed. "I'm sure."

The conversation drifted to slightly milder topics. It was a conversation that would continue over a two year period, as he and Castiel - finding this particular spot to their mutual liking - continued to visit together. They developed a standing agreement of time and place, and a fond rivalry developed, then a fondness, period. Jax got in quite a bit of trouble over the missing cabochon, but when he happened to mention an angel took it from him, the Time Agency let it go pretty quick.

Or maybe they were just preoccupied, preparing to pull the trigger.

Jax woke up one morning with two years of his life erased. Caffè Florian and all it encompassed went out the door with it, lost in the blank space. Jax quit the Agency, started conning the remaining agents for a living (and revenge), and never had the time to visit Venice.

He never knew about the angel waiting faithfully for him. Not for a few thousand years of living, anyway.

* * *

_Christmas Eve, 2014  
Piazza San Marco, Venice_

Jack Harkness stood outside the Caffè Florian with a dour sense of deja vu. The place had a weight of history behind it that swung like a pendulum on a grandfather clock. Nothing terribly tragic or exciting ever happened inside these walls, but the coffee flowed and the croissants steamed, and it was one stable place amid the wreckage of Jack's life.

Christmas always made him melancholy. For a lark, he'd come to Venice this year. Getting out of the solar system wasn't an option - he hadn't booked early enough, and every sane captain gave Earth a wide berth around this time of year. The insane ones, they were the problem.

He couldn't stand a Christmas at Gwen's, nor could she, probably. The rest of Jack's Earth contacts were dead, had forgotten him, likely to shoot him on sight, or Martha Jones - and Jack had already crashed her holidays a few too many times, this year. Jack knew he could find a friend if he wanted one, but he was hungry for a familiar face when he walked into Caffè Florian. As the oldest running coffeeshop in the world, Jack figured his chances here were better than even.

He wasn't wrong. At the end of the long room, a stranger stood up. "Jax?" He called, and Jack froze. He watched, almost disconnected with shock, as the unfamiliar blue eyes searched his, and unfamiliar hands folded around his own. Then he was folded into a hug, tight and lingering, and the intimacy hurt.

"Jax," Jack murmured, staring at the stranger as if he could rake the truth up out of those grief-stricken blue eyes, "You did say 'Jax,' right?"

"It's your—" the stranger replied, halted, and squinted at Jack in confusion. "—wait."

Jack recovered himself, and patted the stranger's arm. "Captain Jack Harkness, these days. I'm sorry, usually I don't forget a face. Who are you?"

The stranger grabbed him by the elbow in an iron grip, and towed him outside, without so much as a by-your-leave. At the center of the Piazza, the stranger tossed Jack away from him and they glared at one another.

"Look, not that I'm not used to this by now," Jack rubbed his arm, "but you're not making a great first impression."

"You're immortal," the stranger spat, "what happened to you? Where have you been?"

At least he didn't say 'you're wrong.' Jack was pretty sure he never wanted to hear that from anyone again, ever. "Who ARE you?"

"Castiel."

Maybe it was the name, or Castiel's wholly unimpressed tone of voice, or Jack's proximity to the man, but a piece of his forgotten history jangled loose.

"I knew you," Jack said, tasting the words slowly, "didn't I? At the Time Agency. And you're—"

"—An angel," Castiel finished, and took a step back. "You're 'Jack Harkness'? Miracle Day 'Jack Harkness'? The man whose blood wound up in the Blessing?"

The words seemed to snatch all the oxygen from the air. Jack gaped, mind racing to process the information. He gazed at Castiel with fresh wonder. "You might want to keep that down. People are still a little edgy about that," he replied, as casually as he could manage, "seems like we've got a lot to talk about."

Castiel's hands curled into fists. He pushed them into the pockets of his overcoat. "I agree."

"Coffee?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

**Author's Note:**

> The Caffe Florian [actually exists](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caff%C3%A8_Florian).


End file.
